


Whiskey and Borscht

by crystymre



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate use of Light, Minor Amanda Holliday/Marcus Ren, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystymre/pseuds/crystymre
Summary: Saint-14 has a thing for his savior, Aila. Fortunately for him Amanda and Suraya are meddlesome.
Relationships: Female Guardian/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	Whiskey and Borscht

Secrets were a hard kept thing in the Tower. Between the Hidden, the rats, and the crows, very few knew less than everything. Fewer still if a person were to follow the channels of gossip, most of which seemed to center around the Tower’s newest addition: Saint-14. Welcomed back as a hero, celebrated for his past achievements, Guardians were fast to adorn his shaders on everything from ship to sparrow. The Paradox had become a favorite secondary; the replica helm sat on every Titans head. Even Hunters, as elusive as they were, donned some tribute to the Kellbreaker.

All except one.

Aila had been there that day… he had known she would come. Even when things seemed darkest in the Forest, he held true to his visions, knowing that somehow, someway, _she_ would save him again. She had seen him home, returned him to Osiris, gifted him the Last City, better than he ever could have dreamt. 

After the fanfare of his return, she disappeared into the shadows, off to be the hero for someone else somewhere else. There had been no pomp and circumstance for her. She had simply done what she needed to do because it needed to be done. Osiris had thanked her, of course, as had he, but it never seemed enough to him.

Saint had asked after her, learning that everyone in the Tower seemed to have a story about Aila. God Slayer. Young Wolf. Harbinger. Dredgen. It was hard to not stand in awe of what all one woman, and her fireteam, had accomplished.

In the following months, he took residence in the Hangar, quickly making friends with Amanda Holliday, who, as it turned out, knew more about his Guardian than just about anyone else. Rather than the informational data one would read on Aila in future annexes, he got to learn about his savior through jokes and anecdotes. Amanda had a way of making this goddess-like creature seem… human.

The more he learned, the more he loved, Amanda willing to retell twice-told stories for his benefit.

Saint found himself more than intrigued with Aila’s character, his mind drifting to her more often than it should. She was every bit the hero the city named her and every bit the woman Amanda made her. Lethal fury wrapped in an impossibly beautiful package. 

He hadn’t seen her without her helmet until she’d first shown up for Trials. He wasn’t sure why it surprised him that Aila would want to compete, she held every other competitive title offered, but the shock had been evident enough that it raised eyebrows among other Guardians. He simply couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Short hair, bright, hopeful eyes, and her smile… he was certain his processors had stopped the first time he saw it.

That alone had been enough to spark the rumor mill, gossip of his infatuation spreading through the Tower faster than wildfire. Knowing smirks greeted him everywhere he went, people offering unnecessary information on Aila’s whereabouts and dealings. The only safe space for him was beside his own ship, Amanda casting him curious glances when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Aila, for her part, never brought up the rumors. Whether she had heard them or not, he wasn’t sure. He was just happy that the gossip hadn’t deterred her from playing. The highlight of his week was opening up Trials on Fridays, waiting for Aila to arrive from wherever she had been, to pick up her passage and bounties.

And so when Friday came, his armor polished and his vendor area made clean, he waited for his savior to arrive. 

* * *

Aila prided herself on being humble. People were quick to throw laurels at her feet, offering her titles they’d thought she’d deserved. Truth was, it was her job. Her livelihood. Every victory came at a price, something she and her fireteam knew all too well. But unlike those closest to her, the same group that saw her from Aetheon to the Sanctified Mind, she didn’t have the comforting distraction of companionship. 

So, she threw herself into competition instead. Crucible, Iron Banner, Gambit, Trials… all of it to kill time and distract her from her own nightmares.

She’d lost count of her victories, owning every variation and roll on all available loot. Most days, she simply went through the motions, refusing to let herself hyper fixate on the terrors she’d encountered. Others, she channeled her rage into taking out the other teams, a terrifying sight even by Shaxx’s standards, who temporarily banned her from Mayhem.

Never one to break from routine, Aila found herself in the Hangar at five one Friday, stopping to throw Colonel some feed before making her way over to Saint’s ship.

“Heya, Aila,” Amanda called out, distracting her. “C’ mere and give me a hand, would ya?”

She froze mid-stride, eyes darting over toward the armor-clad Titan before spinning on her heel. “What’s up?”

“Take this,” the shipwright thrust a socket wrench into her hands. “Need that Guardian strength to loosen a few of these bolts.”

“Okay?” Aila’s brow arched in confusion as she sat on a rolling stool, eye level with a half corroded engine. “What happened to this thing?”

“Scorn,” Amanda answered, laying back on a crawler to get underneath the melted ball of metal. “You Guardians have a thing about running those little exploding crabs over.”

Alia laughed despite herself. “They’re not crabs.”

“Well,” she cranked down on her end of the jammed bolt, “Whatever they are, y’all really need to stop.”

The two worked together for some time stripping down the engine, Amanda occasionally glancing up to look over Aila’s shoulder. “What?” the Hunter finally asked, looking behind her as though she had something on her back.

“Saint’s staring,” Amanda smiled.

“No he’s not,” Aila leaned back, catching a glimpse of the Titan as he spoke with other fireteams.

“He was,” she said with a knowing look, breaking the torque on a particularly rusted bolt. “Every few minutes, he wanders over this way.”

“Now you’re making things up,” she deflected, reaching for a hammer to knock the bolt free, her eyes subtly glancing to the side in Saint’s direction.

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not,” she scoffed, smacking the engine hard enough for the clang to echo through the noisy hangar.

“So if I told you that he just shoved that Warlock out of the way to see what that noise was--?”

Aila spun, nearly dropping her hammer to find Saint staring directly at her, the offended Warlock picking himself up off the floor. “Shut up,” she turned back around, biting her lip to contain a grin.

“You _like_ him.”

“I respect him.”

“No, you _like_ him.”

Aila looked at the blonde. “I admire him.”

“What if I told you that he liked you too?” Amanda teased. 

“First off, this isn’t one of those novels Cayde used to read,” she said with a straight face. “Secondly, you’re full of it.”

“I’m serious!”

“Right, okay, let’s _assume_ that _the_ Saint-14 thinks about me like that. The Kellbreaker. Hero of the Six Fronts—”

“Selling yourself short there.”

“Don’t you think he would have _said_ something to me by now?”

“You’re elusive. Even by Hunter standards. Had to con you into helping me just to be able to chat,” Amanda said pointedly, giving the engine a solid hit to have the troublesome bolt break free. 

“Really?” Aila deadpanned.

“You’re hard to pin down lately,” she shrugged. “Been all wrapped up in that big ol head of yours.”

“My head’s not big,” she countered.

“Yeah it is.” Both women turned to find Suraya Hawthorne walking toward them. “Amazing how you fit it in that helmet of yours,” she grinned.

Aila rolled her eyes as Amanda rolled out from under the sparrow, standing up to wipe her hands on a rag. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

“I’m having a party,” she announced. “At the Farm.”

“No shit?”

“Tomorrow night. I expect to see _both_ of you there.”

Aila shook her head. “Oh, I--”

“She’ll be there,” Amanda cut in.

“I don’t--”

“You’ll be there.”

“But--”

“You’re going,” Amanda said with finality.

“Bossy,” Aila set the hammer down.

“Uh,” Suraya cut in. “You two okay?”

“Peachy,” Amanda grinned. “Trying to convince our girl here that she has a secret admirer.”

“Saint?” 

“See?” Amanda turned to Aila. “ _Everyone_ knows.”

Aila rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re both wrong.”

“I should invite him!”

“What?!”

“Yes!” Amanda clapped. 

“No!”

“Oh, yeah! Little bonfire, little booze, it’ll be great,” Suraya smiled. “Wouldn’t want you being lonely,” she winked.

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Amanda.”

“Not once Ren gets there,” Suraya scoffed, knowing something Aila didn’t. The Hunter turned, eying Amanda who’s face heated.

“I… well…”

“Amanda,” Aila’s tone dropped.

“We, uh…”

“Hah!” Suraya cackled. “You’ve spent too much time in the wilds there, Hunter.”

Amanda pointed her finger at Aila. “This isn’t about me. This is about you. You, who _clearly_ has a thing for Saint—”

“I—”

“Or at least you don’t mind that he has a thing for you.”

“He doesn’t, though,” Aila’s hands went to her hips.

Suraya rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Hey Pigeon Boy!” She took off toward Saints ship. “What are you up to tomorrow night?”

“So help me, Traveler,” Aila dropped her head on Amanda’s workbench.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Amanda swatted at her, leaning in to listen.

“Hosting Trials,” Saint’s voice carried. “As I do every weekend.”

“Yeah, about that. Think you can get that screwy monk to host tomorrow night?” Suraya asked.

Aila groaned. “Kill me now.”

“You’d just come back,” Amanda laughed.

“Brother Vance?” The irritation was evident in Saint’s voice.

“Yeah. Him. The screwy one.”

“Perhaps,” he answered cautiously. “Why?”

“I’m throwin’ a party, and you’re coming.”

“I am?”

“Oh yeah. Whole Tower’s gonna be there. Food, music, bonfire. Gonna be a great time. Everyone will get to relax and let their hair down. Figuratively, of course.”

“I don’t know…”

“Aila will be there,” Suraya tried to sweeten the deal. 

“Imma sic Zavala on you both,” Aila groaned, hiding out of view.

“She is?” Saint asked, disbelief evident.

“Yup,” Suraya answered, popping her p.

“No, Asher,” Aila growled under her breath. “Somehow I’ll get you both to Io and leave you there.”

“I appreciate the invitation,” he said through his thick accent. “But parties are not my—”

“You like her, right?”

Saint paused. “I— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered quickly, turning to feed his pigeons.

“Oh, please. Whole Tower knows. Except Aila, of course, because somehow she is just as dense as your helmet is thick.”

He turned, a quick crack of laughter escaping him.

“Look, I get she has that whole mysterious Hunter thing going on, but she is _actively_ hiding behind Amanda’s workbench because the woman can slay gods but not confess her itty bitty crush on you.”

“Her what?”

Aila squeaked, a sound Amanda was certain she’d never heard her make before. “Excuse me a sec,” she said, holding up a finger. Shadow rolling, she went invisible, the blurry edges of her silhouette making their way toward the bay door of the Hangar.

The tracker on the wall reset to zero.

“Did she just…?” Saint asked, having watched her jump off the side of the wall.

“She’ll be fine,” Suraya disregarded it. “So what’d ya say? Wanna take a night off?”

“Well, I suppose if _everyone_ is going…” 

“Great!” Suraya chirped, turning to leave. “Oh, uh, the armor might be a bit overkill,” she winked before happily strutting away. Pausing beside Amanda’s workbench, she raised a brow at the freshly resurrected Aila. “You’re welcome.”

“I hate you both,” the Hunter muttered into her hands.

* * *

The entire Tower was out to humiliate Aila. She was sure of it. Between Shaxx suggesting that she and Saint compete together in the next round of Crimson Doubles, to Eva Levante throwing out wedding color schemes, Aila knew she would have to flee the system. It was as simple as that.

Sure, she had her thoughts about Saint. Who wouldn’t? The man was a living legend and an all-around gentleman. But her thoughts were just that, fantastical ideas her brain conjured up when she was alone out in the Wilds. He was _Saint-14_ after all. 

Not that she didn’t have her own extensive list of accolades. Amanda had been right about that. She wasn’t like him though, no one sang songs about her or wore marks and helms in remembrance. She was just a girl trying to survive.

By Saturday afternoon, she felt sick with anxiety. Gods, Legions, even the Nightmares of things slain-past were no match against having to choose a sweater. Killing, _that_ she knew. Chick stuff, she was out of her element.

“You really only have two sweaters?” Amanda stood in front of the narrow closet that housed the few non-armor pieces of clothing she owned.

“I’m in my armor ninety percent of the time,” Aila shot back, washing ogre goo off from her patrol earlier that day.

“They’re both black.”

“If they’re good enough for the bar, they’re good enough for the Farm,” she called from the shower.

“You really wanna wear one of these on your first date?” Amanda eyed one of the worn turtlenecks that was verging on gray. 

“First off,” the water shut off, “It’s _not_ a date. A date would imply that Saint asked me. Which he didn’t.” Aila stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in her towel. “Secondly, the _only_ reason I am still going is because Suraya strong-armed him into taking the night off. None of you know the literal headache that comes with asking Brother Vance for anything. I am going to not be rude.”

“Well, he’s going to see you. So in a way, that’s a date.”

“Is not.”

“Two Guardians agreeing to go somewhere, off duty, out of armor, where there will be booze and music…” Amanda let her statement hang heavy with a smirk.

“ _One_ Guardian out of armor,” Aila corrected.

“You can’t wear your--”

“I meant Saint.”

“Suraya told him to dress casually.”

“She did?”

Amanda nodded. “When you were busy offing yourself. Touch dramatic, by the way.”

“Huh,” Aila’s brows furrowed, trying to picture what Saint looked like beneath the trademark helm.

“Oh snap,” Amanda clapped. “You’ve never _seen_ him without it on, have you?”

“I haven’t,” Aila sat on the edge of her bed. “Even after the Corridors, the celebration, he had it on the whole time.”

“Definitely not ruining the surprise then,” Amanda laughed.

“Oh come on!” Aila chucked a pillow at her. “You put me up to this!”

“I told you you were coming to the party. _Suraya_ invited Saint. Not my fault you’re all worked up over a ‘not-date’ that he couldn’t _possibly_ want with you and that you _definitely_ don’t want with him.”

“Are you done?”

“As funny as I find Shaxx adding purple shaders to the Doubles rewards, I’m not telling you that you have to get married and have babies.”

“Guardians are sterile.”

“Missing the point. The reason I wanted you to go--”

“Forced. You’re _forcing_ me to go.”

“--was because you need to get _out_ of that head of yours. One night screwing off with some friends will do ya some good.”

Aila sighed, “I’ve been distant lately, haven’t I?”

Amanda shot her an empathetic frown. “Pretty much since Cayde died.”

“Fine,” she raised her hands in surrender. “I’ll go. I’ll have fun. But you’re _going_ to tell me what he looks like,” she pointed a finger at the shipwright. 

“Okay!” Amanda grinned. “So ya know how Cayde was all colorful and shiny?”

“Yeah?”

“Saint is… the opposite? Couldn’t think of a color name for his frame. So dark purple it’s almost black? And matte. But it kinda glows too? If you find out, lemme know cause I have a whole gaggle of y’all Guardians that want sparrows with that shader.”

“How did I not know this?” Aila asked herself.

“You’re never around during the week,” she shrugged. “But Imma tell ya… he’s pretty. Like _real_ pretty. Armor doesn’t do him justice.”

“Huh,” she tried and failed to imagine what Saint’s exo frame might look like.

“Who knows though,” Amanda wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe a night of screwing off will turn into more than screwing,” she beamed. “Maybe you’ll get to see what’s under the hood?”

“Amanda!”

“Like you haven’t thought about it,” she laughed. “Cayde took me to one of those _vendors_ back in the day. Some of those mod options are _wild_.”

“Did you and Cayde ever…?”

“Oh, Traveler no. He and Petra were unofficially a thing.”

“Again, how do I not know these things?” 

“Because you spend all of your time savin’ the system,” Amanda said casually. A knock came from the door, the shipwright moving to answer it. “Hey Ikora.”

“I come bearing gifts,” the Warlock smiled, entering the residence. Handing the Hunter a linen-wrapped bundle, she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Aila eagerly untied the twine, finding a midnight blue cashmere turtleneck and a matching gold-trimmed scarf. “It’s beautiful,” she looked up to Ikora. “Thank you.”

“Blue!” Amanda clapped. “So much better than black!”

“Happens to be Saint’s favorite color,” Ikora smiled knowingly, Aila rolling her eyes.

“Well, hurry on and get dressed. We’re gonna be late as it is,” Amanda tapped her foot impatiently.

* * *

Any anxieties Aila had melted away by the time she saw Saint’s ship circle around to land. Half a bottle of whiskey deep, she felt loose for the first time since the Red War. Sitting in the corner of the bench seating, she watched the fire as it danced, Marcus Ren telling stories to a rapt Amanda. Most of the Guardians that had shown up were either in the barn or playing soccer, a handful attempting to keep their drunken balance on the water wheel. For the event being so last minute, Suraya managed to pull a respectable crowd.

The woman sat on the edge of the dock next to Devrim, and his partner Marc, Louis perched at the end of the short pier. “Was beginning to wonder if you’d show up,” she called out to Saint as he approached, a bottle of wine in hand.

“Ah, apologies,” he held out the gift to her. “Brother Vance took some…convincing.”

Alia’s attention on Marcus, she had barely noticed the Exo as he spoke with Suraya, her eyes catching the subtle violet glow. Turning to look, she felt her face heat, her Light coming alive at the sight; alcohol undoubtedly amplifying the effect. 

“Told you,” Amanda’s voice was low in Aila’s ear, having spotted the Titan as well.

She hadn’t been wrong. The man was stunning.

Saint’s metal alloy frame was impossibly dark, so much so that if it hadn’t been for the violet glow of his optics and voice module, she might have missed him altogether. Devoid of any marking features or accessories, his frame had clearly been designed for function, not flair, his strength evident even as he wore simple dark trousers and a gray sweater.

His eyes caught hers, the indigo coloring brightening as he smiled.

Light danced in her palm.

“Easy killer,” Marcus laughed, Amanda in a hysterical drunken fit between them. “Burn the whole place down.” 

Quickly extinguishing the solar energy, she forced her attention back on the fire, not daring to look back at Saint again so soon.

“Saint, good man,” Devrim stood, shaking the Exo’s hand. “Suraya said you might be coming. You remember my husband, Marc?”

“Yes. Hello, again,” Saint shook hands with the other man.

“I’m sure you know everyone else here.”

“Ah, yes,” Saint said with a note of apprehension. “I would have been here sooner but--”

“Oh, don’t go apologizin’,” Amanda stood, slightly off-kilter. “Better late than never,” she smiled before turning back to Marcus. “Wanna go swimmin’?” The Hunter smiled as he stood, taking the shipwright by the hand to lead her out of the fire pit.

“You keep an eye on her,” Aila warned him, her face setting into a serious scowl.

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted her lazily, sidestepping Saint, who shuffled toward their now-vacant seats.

“Interesting pairing, those two,” Devrim said, sitting back down beside his husband. “Hadn’t had a chance to meet Marcus until a few months ago. Good kid.”

“You know he’s older than you, right?” Aila laughed.

“Age is little more than a number. It’s about what’s in your heart,” he countered with a smile.

“She seems happy with him,” Suraya shrugged.

“Zavala is going to have a shit fit,” Aila scoffed, taking a swig out of the whiskey bottle before passing it to Saint. His bare fingers touched hers as he took it, electricity racing up her spine. Their eyes locked again, Light threatening to current out of her in the form of Arc this time. 

“Right, well then,” Devrim cleared his throat. “Marc, care to help me find more of… anything?”

“I’ll help,” Suraya laughed, the three standing to leave Saint and Aila alone.

The fire crackled, lake waters softly lapping against the side of the dock and firepit as music carried throughout the Farm.

“Aila,” Saint spoke first, her name rolling off his synthetic tongue mod, thick and heavy through his accent. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t,” she smiled shyly, her eyes finding his again. She shook her head out of her spiraling thoughts. “Amanda and I were both late anyways.”

Saint shifted on the worn cushions, turning his body toward her in a surprisingly casual move. “That is a lovely sweater,” he said.

Light and alcohol rushed to Aila’s head, making her slightly dizzy. “Thank you,” she blushed. “I, uhm, I’ve never seen you out of your armor.”

“Is that so?”

“You are really pretty,” she blurted, his brow arching in surprise. “Handsome,” she quickly corrected. “Pretty handsome.” Aila sank into her seat, looking at anything but his amused expression.

Saint laughed. “This means a lot coming from you.”

She forced herself to breathe before mustering the courage to face him. “This is awkward, right?”

“What?”

“You. Me. This,” she motioned around them. “Suraya. Meddling…”

“I’ll admit I was surprised when she approached me.”

“She shouldn’t have.” Aila paused. “No. Not… Just, she shouldn’t have invited you like _that_.”

“Like how, exactly?”

She swallowed. “Using me as some kind of bait,” her words came out as a whisper. Snatching the bottle back, she took another swig.

Saint stretched his arm out across the back of the bench seating, leaning toward her slightly. “If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have come.”

Confident her brain short-circuited, she closed her eyes, trying to quell the erratic Light within her.

“Are you feeling alright?” Saint asked, his voice full of concern.

“Fine,” she answered, looking back up at him and his searching eyes. “Nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Anxious,” she corrected.

“Why?” His optics blinked.

An abrupt bark of laughter escaped her, her hand quickly covering her mouth. “Sorry,” she shook her head, controlling her fit of giggles. “Amanda tried to convince me that… nevermind.”

“Tell me,” his face was pleading.

“It’s dumb.”

“Ah, how do you say, indulge me?”

Aila collected herself, setting the bottle of whiskey down. “Amanda _suggested_ that you might have a thing for me. Which is ridiculous. I told her—”

Saint’s optics narrowed, his faceplates rearranging into a frown. “Why is this ‘ridiculous’?”

“Because,” she rolled her eyes with a wide smile. “You’re _you_ , for Traveler’s sake.” Liquored lips let loose with the truth.

“And you’re you,” he countered, incredulously.

“Right, but _you’re_ Saint-14. Hero of the Six Fronts. Breaker of Kells. Former Vanguard—”

Saint cut her off, his mouth plates warm against her lips. Pausing briefly, he sat back, quickly looking away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, not like that. I—”

“Saint?” He turned as she sat forward, a hesitant hand coming up to trace the seam along the hollows of his cheeks. “Was she right?”

“Yes,” he answered, blinking slowly.

Aila bit her lip, a wide grin spreading along her lips. “Good.”

Saint smiled, pressing his forehead to hers.

A squeal was quickly followed by a series of splashes, Amanda and Marcus jumping off the rocks into the lake. Aila turned, laughing as her friend came back up for air.

The remainder of the night, Aila and Saint sat side by side, the rest of the group eventually rejoining them. His arm remained along the back of the bench, fingertips brushing against her shoulder. Alcohol flowed freely, Suraya and Devrim more relaxed than Aila had ever seen the pair. Amanda, who had cut herself off, sat on Marcus’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck as everyone told jokes and stories.

“You should have seen their faces!” Devrim stood, arms out to emphasize his point. “Blown to smithereens!”

Aila laughed, letting herself relax against Saint. He leaned into her, bending his head, so his mouth was near her ear. “I hope it’s not too forward of me to say this, but you are positively radiant tonight.”

A shiver ran down her spine as she cracked her face up to smile at him. Reaching for his other hand, she laced her fingers with his feeling blissfully content for the first time that she could remember. 

“Can I ask you something?” Aila’s thumb traced small circles on the back of his hand as a Guardian she didn’t know too well began their story.

“Of course,” Saint answered.

“What color _is_ this?” her nail tapped on the warm metal of his frame.

His deep chuckle set her nerves alight once more. “#200A24. It is called Erie Black. But under the right lighting, it is nearly blue.”

“Really?”

“Perhaps I could show you one day?”

“I would like that,” she smiled, curling into him as he wrapped his arm around her.

* * *

Saint and Aila walked side by side along the lakeshore, watching as ships took off back toward the City. “It’s so quiet here,” Saint said, his fingers lacing with hers. “I grew accustomed to the sound of slap rifles.”

“I would be happy never having to hear a minotaur scream again.”

He smiled, coming to a stop. “I dreamt of you for so long, Aila. The hope I held onto… no one believed me. And toward the end, I didn’t believe myself. But then you came, and you rescued me.”

“It was destiny,” she said quietly. “The corridor would only open for me. I thought Osiris would have explained it by now.”

“He did,” Saint nodded. “But I cannot thank you enough. For life. For this,” he motioned back toward the Farm. “But I would like to try.” His hand came up to cradle her face, the metal of his frame pleasantly warm on her cheek. “If you will let me.”

Aila pulled herself closer to him, tipping up onto her toes. Her lips met the soft kiss of Void. Unlike before, Saint manipulated his Light to mimic the lips he’d once had. As powerful as the Titan was, he kissed her with an undeniable intimacy, Aila wrapping her arms around his neck as she gasped into him, deepening their kiss. Saint hummed appreciatively, the silicone modification of his tongue slipping just inside her mouth.

Adrenaline and alcohol-fueled the charging Light between them, her own void energy being called forth to merge with his. “You taste sweet,” he said as they kissed, his optics dimming.

Aila couldn’t help but giggle, no longer caring how contradictory it was to the Guardian everyone knew. Bouncing off the balls of her feet, she leapt up, Saint catching her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, melting into him.

Saint laughed, breaking their kiss. “You are heavier than you look, little Hunter.”

“Rude!” she scoffed, swatting at him playfully.

“Let me cook for you.”

“It’s one in the morning,” she grinned, biting her lip.

“Tomorrow then. Unless that is too soon?”

“No. Tomorrow sounds great.”

“I do not want to rush this,” he said pointedly. “I want to take my time with you.”

“We’re damn near immortal,” Aila rested her forehead against his. “We have forever.”

“All the more reason to cherish every moment. To cherish you.” Saint’s optics dropped to her lips and back again.

Aila’s Light hummed. “You’re gonna cook for me?” 

“If that’s okay?”

“Shit yeah,” she blurted, causing Saint to laugh. “What are you gonna make?”

“ _That_ is a surprise.”

“Mmm,” she licked her lips, tilting her head to kiss him again. Letting her hands wander, her fingertips traced the intricate seams of his frame, eliciting a deep groan from the Exo that held her. “Saint,” she whispered against him, their kiss heating as he trailed along her jaw.

“Aila,” he purred through his accent, fingers squeezing the supple flesh of her thighs.

“Say that again,” she keened softly, her head falling back.

“Aila,” Saint drew her name out, walking them toward a nearby tree. Void energy enveloped them both. Bark bit into her back, his weighted frame between her legs creating sinful friction as he pinned her in place. “Aila,” he said again, mouth plates nipping at the soft of her neck. Broad mechanical hands skated up her sides as a violet mist swirled beneath them, a thin veil of void settling over them in true Titan fashion. 

“Wow,” she exhaled, watching their matched energies intertwine.

Saint licked into the curve of her neck. “Lucky that I am not Saladin. I’d have burnt the entire forest down.”

Aila laughed, easing the mounting sexual tension between them. “We should probably go before I ask you to fuck me against this tree.”

Standing upright, his optics flashed. “One day, perhaps.”

She feigned an offended gasp. “You’re _dirty_.”

Saint kissed her chastely before resting his forehead against hers again. “You’ve no idea what you do to me, Aila. That you would honor me with your friendship when I have done so little to deserve it. And _this_ … I never could have imagined this. It seemed a foolish hope until now.”

“You are… _such_ a romantic,” she beamed, her Light shifting from unbridled lust to happy contentment. 

“It is the only way I know how to express myself.”

Aila kissed him again. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

As anxious as Aila had been for their not-date date at the Farm, she was sick with nerves the following afternoon. Amanda and Suraya had yet to be seen, both hungover as neither had a Ghost to flush the alcohol from their systems. Instead, Ikora was the first to show up at her door, bearing tea in exchange for gossip.

“You know Osiris will never stop taking credit for this,” the Warlock laughed, letting herself relax and indulge the newfound range of emotions Aila was still reeling from.

“Ya know what? That’s fine. I just… this is like I’m finally letting myself breathe after…” Aila let the sentence drop, Ikora nodding in understanding.

“Losing Cayde was hard. After Andal, he purposely kept everyone at arm’s length, except you.”

“He was a great mentor. A better friend,” Aila smiled fondly.

“He was. And he would have wanted this for you.”

“He’d have wanted me to turn into a babbling mess with a crush?” she asked with a laugh.

“He’d want you to be happy. You haven’t been the same since the Prison. A part of me feared that the humanity in you was lost that day as well.”

“Yes well, I had a score to settle.”

“And an Ahkamara to take down. Psions to stop. Vex to destroy… it will always be _something._ It’s on you to find that balance.”

Aila nodded, losing herself in thought.

“You’re happy. Happiest I’ve seen you in some time. _Enjoy_ this. Let yourself be silly and new. You deserve it.”

Aila smiled, catching Ikora’s eyes. “No chance you have another sweater I can borrow?”

* * *

Saint would be lying to himself if he said Suraya inviting him to her party hadn’t been the best thing that’d happened to him since he’d left the Forest. Revered as the greatest Titan to have ever lived, he found himself a nervous disaster once he’d gotten there. He’d slain legions of Fallen only to come undone over a sweater. A part of him had hoped she’d chosen that color for him, but he quelled his foolish fantasies.

He would have been happy simply spending time with Aila, but once she confessed her own insecurities and apprehension, he knew he’d regret not taking the chance. So he’d kissed her, finding her lips to be sinfully soft. The taste alone would have carried him through the next century, but then she let her walls down, let him see a side of her he doubted few had. And when she kissed him later that night…

He needed to send Suraya a thank you gift.

The following day Saint sent couriers off to the markets, letting them gather the ingredients he’d need while he cleaned his neglected residence. Zavala had seen to giving him the Speaker’s former quarters after he’d returned home. But the residence was entirely too large for one person, boasting two bedrooms and a full kitchen.

After months of sleeping on his ship, he opened the door to layers of dust and grime, but it was just as well. He needed the distraction to get through the day, cleaning keeping him busy from fantasizing about Aila.

She had been so soft in his arms, a stark contradiction to the hardened warrior that had broken time to save him. The way she had whispered his name, how she had asked him to repeat hers, their Light… He’d heard stories about compatible Guardians, their class-chosen energies syncing. But to experience, it was something else.

After his deliveries arrived, he turned his attention to prep cooking, letting time slip away. He’d decided to make borscht, a simple dish he knew better than most, pairing it with the wine he’d paid extra to source. Cabbage simmered in the minced garlic as he lit the untouched candles from the Lighthouse, the glow disguising the residence’s sparseness.

A polite knock came from his door as he lit the last one. “Aila,” he opened it, spotting his Hunter. 

“We didn’t agree on a time,” she smiled, shifting nervously in a beige tunic. Saint recognized it as Ikora’s, smiling inwardly that one of his oldest friends approved. 

They hadn’t. “Please, come in,” Saint stepped back to let her by, forcing his optics to not follow the subtle sway of her hips.

“It smells amazing,” she hummed happily, stopping once she was inside.

“I wasn’t sure what you might want,” Saint confessed. “I hope you like borscht.”

“I’m sure I will,” Aila smiled. “Oh!” Holding her hand out flat, her Ghost materialized a dusty bottle of vodka in it for her. “She let me into the old stores, said this was about the right date,” Aila turned the bottle, handing it to him.

“Hah!” A bark of laughter escaped him. “They made this for me after Twilight Gap. Thousands of bottles. Thought for sure we had drank them all. Sneaky Warlock must have kept hers,” he winked. “Thank you.”

Aila relaxed, tipping up to kiss the edge of his jaw. 

The bottle disappeared again as Saint bent to cup her face, capturing her lips briefly. Aila snaked her arms up and around his neck, balancing herself as she kissed him back. “Saint,” she pulled back far enough to look him in the optics.

A low growl came out as mechanical static, the look on her face irrefutably seductive. “Are you hungry?” Saint asked, cooling fans in him spinning up.

Aila bit her lip. “Not yet.” Nails scratched along the hardened metal at the base of his skull.

“Good,” his tone dropped as he bent to pick her up. She wrapped herself around him as they slammed against the closest wall, pent up tension unfurling as lips and hands wandered and nipped. Aila rolled her hips into him to readjust, gaining a slight height advantage from where she was pinned.

Reaching between them, she unbuttoned the front of the tunic, the material falling loose without outright exposing her. 

Saint froze, his optics flickering before finding her eyes. “Aila… I don’t expect—”

“Kiss. Me.”

Never one to refuse a lady, he met her lips with his again, Void energy coursing through him. Their Light ignited.

“So soft,” Saint murmured, alloy plates nipping at the skin along her collarbone. Breathy moans escaped Aila, her palm flat on his chest. The room was illuminated in a wash of violet, their moves sensually slow as they explored each other in sobriety. “So sweet. I should have left the Forest sooner… would have gone with you that day had I known…” he trailed off, working his way back up the column of her neck.

“Borscht,” Aila moaned. 

“As much as you want,” he nipped at her earlobe. “I would cook for you every day if you asked.”

“Burning,” she added, trying to push his heavy frame. 

“I am a great cook. Never burn food.”

“The borscht is burning, Saint,” she gasped, forcibly extinguishing her Light. 

“Blyad,” he set her down before rushing to the kitchen, Aila laughing as he went. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, quickly salvaging the dish. “I shouldn’t have… sorry.”

Aila readjusted her tunic, grinning at Saint’s sudden embarrassment. “Don’t be. I’ll come over more often if that’s how you plan on greeting me.”

“Yes, well, you have a way of—”

“Distracting you?”

“Da,” he admitted. “Wine?”

“Please,” she giggled, taking a seat at the kitchen counter. Saint poured her a generous glass, sliding the fragile glass toward her. “Your place is beautiful.”

“It was meant to be the Speakers, before… his belongings are packed away in the closet,” he stirred the soup, careful to scrape the burnt beets on the bottom.

“I’m sorry, Saint.”

“I missed much. But I would have missed more without you.”

Aila smiled fondly, taking a sip of her wine. “This is good.”

“You like wine?”

“No. I don’t think so anyway,” Aila shook her head. “I’ve never actually had wine before.”

“Really?” Saint asked in disbelief.

“Typically, if I’m drinking, it’s whiskey or ether-concentrate.”

“Nyah, that radioactive swill?”

“It’s not so bad once you get past the taste,” she laughed.

“Horrible. Awful. How it hasn’t killed you…”

“Oh it did once. But there was some illegal sparrow racing involved. One particularly sharp curve later,” Aila smiled.

Saint shook his head, tisking her. “Now, who would challenge you to a race while drinking?”

“Cayde,” she answered bluntly.

“Why does this not surprise me?” he laughed. “May I ask you something personal?”

“Of course.”

“Were you and Cayde ever…?”

Aila nearly spat her wine out, “I asked Amanda that a couple of days ago.”

“He was always very charismatic. Had a bit of a reputation.”

“Cayde was a friend,” she assured him.

Saint blinked once before turning around to grab bowls. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I was only curious because I am not… well, I am not human.”

“Wanted to know if I was an Exo chaser?” she teased. 

Saint nearly dropped the bowls, spinning back with a horrified expression. “No! I would never!”

“I’m fucking with you, Saint,” she laughed. The Exo visibly relaxed, setting the bowls down. “I know some Guardians have their _preferences_ …”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“You didn’t,” she assured him, reaching out to touch his arm. “Truth is, I haven’t been with anyone. Not since I rezzed anyways.” She pulled back, staring into her wine glass.

“No one has caught your attention?”

“Besides you?”

Saint smiled. “You humble me.”

“Uhm, no,” she admitted. “Honestly, up until last night, I hadn’t even thought about _that_ . Definitely didn’t think _you_ thought about me like that.”

“How could I not?” Saint said abruptly.

Aila blushed, grinning into her glass. “This is _very_ good.”

“Borscht?” he asked, grabbing the ladle.

“Yes, please.”

The two ate while reminiscing over their better missions, wine flowing freely as they ate their fill. Music played softly in the background, putting them both at comfortable ease.

“That was amazing,” Aila hummed, wiping her mouth politely.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Loved it.”

“Do you dance?” Saint asked, stepping around the kitchen island to hold out his hand. Aila smiled, taking his hand to stand up. He spun her gently, leading her away from the kitchen. Pulling her close, he wrapped his arm around her, hand on the small of her back as they swayed together.

“Thank you.” Aila leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. 

“For?”

“Dinner,” she said, lacing her fingers with his.

“Of course.”

The couple moved with the music, letting one song fade into another, silently enjoying one another’s company. As the next song began, Aila looked up, meeting violet eyes. Wordlessly they met, Aila’s lips on Light-formed ones.

Their dancing stopped as they gave in to one another. Aila wrapped her arms up and around Saint’s thick neck, his wide palm pulling her closer still.

“Aila,” he broke their kiss, his forehead resting on hers. 

“Bedroom, Saint.”

Aila let out a squeal as he hauled her over his shoulder, legs making long strides toward the bedroom that should have been the Speakers. Tossing her onto the oversized bedding, he took a second to take her in. She grinned, crooking her finger at him. He crawled over top of her, optics searching her face as he went. “If this is too soon…”

Grabbing the front of his shirt, Aila pulled him down onto her, lips crashing together once more. Careful to not crush her with his frame, Saint braced himself. His free hand ran up her side as her legs spread to let him settle.

“Milaya,” he whispered, the tips of his fingers toyed dangerously with the seam of her tunic. “Myagkiy.”

“Saint,” Aila” s head fell back, deft fingers working the ties that held it together. The sides of the dress fell open, pooling around her to reveal lace from an era past.

“Trakhni menya,” Saint swore, his head dropping. “What are you doing to me?” The question rolled through his thick accent.

Aila giggled softly, biting her lip as she tilted his head up. “You like?”

A low growl reverberated from his chest. “You’re making me forget my manners.”

“Maybe that was the point?”

His hand brushed along the lace strap of her bra, his eyes dark. “What do you want, Aila?” 

“You.” Their lips met in a fevered frenzy, tips of his fingers daring to dip lower. His broad palm cupped her breast through the sheer material, eliciting a sweet moan from her. “Yes,” her hips rolled into him.

Saint massaged her as he left a trail of small bites down her throat, careful to pinch and not pierce. Fans in his chest kicked on, cooling his frame as it began to overheat with desire. “Detka,” he hummed, working his way down her body. Aila arched into him, fingertips tracing the flawless joins of his head, breath quickening the further he kissed.

He stopped just below her navel, sitting up to pull off his shirt in one fluid motion. “Wow,” she exhaled, propping herself up on her elbows to view him. “You really _are_ pretty.”

A sound that could be mistaken as a chuckle escaped him, his eyes slowly taking her in. “It is you that is the beauty.” Aila blushed, squealing with unbridled glee as he settled himself down between her legs, nipping along the inside of her thigh. “Absolute nebesa.” His fingers slid along the curve of her hip, hooking underneath the lace to slowly tug her panties down. “How attached to these are you?”

“I have more,” Aila exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The fabric gave way to Saint, the warm tongue modification quickly swiping between slick folds. “Oh!” Her Light ignited. His tongue circled around her clit, sparking arc energy deep within her core. “Sain…” His name died on her tongue.

With tender precision Saint pressed and pushed, his tongue manipulating her body to his will. A warm metal digit slid through her folds before slipping inside, experimentally curving up along her most sensitive spot. Her legs clenched, letting him know that he had found it. A second finger joined the first, drawing in and out of her as her climax built. 

Aila mewled beneath his touch, attempting to squirm away from him. “Relax,” he coached her, his other arm coming to wrap around her thigh to hold her in place. “Pozvol’ mne uvidet’ tvoy svet.” Without needing translation, her Light surged, heat within her radiating out from her core. Her body seized as she came undone, Saint replacing his fingers with his tongue to taste the fruits of his labors. “Divine.”

“Saint!” Aila cried out, arc energy discharging around the room as she came.

“More,” he purred, drawing her orgasm out.

“I— too much,” she panted, contracting around his tongue. “Saint, please!” 

“Tell me what you _need_ , Aila.”

“You,” she moaned, gripping the bedspread. “I need you!”

Fingers replaced his tongue as he sat back, stretching her as she rode out the last shocks, her arc energy settling. Aila wiggled from him, sinking into the bed with a content smile.

“Give me a sec,” she grinned, biting her lower lip. Saint chuckled, lilac optics illuminating the space around them. He backed off the bed, unfastening the belts that held his pants, letting the thick material drop to the floor. 

Aila’s eyes widened at the sight of him, his modification fully erect. Shutting her mouth, she pulled herself to her knees, letting the tunic fall completely from her. He watched as she crawled closer, her expression curious as she wrapped her hand around him.

“Aila,” Saint hissed, his optics flickering from sudden overstimulation. The corners of her mouth curved into a wicked smirk as she began to pump him slowly. “That’s—” His voice cut to static as she ran her tongue over the hot head of his mechanical cock. 

She giggled, giving a few experimental licks before taking him into her mouth. His fingers carded into her hair with care, letting her work him at her pace.

“Blya da,” his voice crackled, fingers curling around her locks. 

Determined to knock his sensors offline, she took him as deep as she could, using her hand to make up for the remainder of his impressive length. Peering up at him, she watched his optics flicker and dim, fans cooling as void energy slowly emanating from his being.

“Chert!” Saint cursed, abruptly pulled from her, grabbing her wrist to guide her up. “I must—”

Aila launched herself at him, trusting him to hold her up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, her face buried in the curve of his neck. 

Saint secured her weight with ease, lining himself up with her entrance. Letting gravity assist, he slid into her, their combined moan music on the air.

“Are you—?”

Aila nodded. “More, please.” Relaxing his arms, he let her fall further, his modification piercing her inch by inch. “Oh, shit,” she hissed, eyes screwing shut.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, feeling her stretch around him. It was taking everything in him to not pin her to the bed and rail her, knowing he’d cause more harm than good.

She opened her eyes, kissing the metal above the hollow of his cheek. “You won’t. I trust you.”

Her words pulled at his heart, the urgency in which he needed her giving way to his desire to see her sated. Laying her back, he split her further, feeling her velvet heat clench around him. Pausing briefly, he let her adjust before drawing back. 

“Saint,” she whispered, her jaw slack, eyes lidded with lust. He tilted his hips back into her, feeling her body quake. “Yes.”

“You feel sublime,” he praised her, rolling in and out once more.

“More,” Aila pleaded, nails digging into the metal plates of his shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” he instructed, snapping deeper. Aila’s brows furrowed as her head tilted back, hips rising to meet each thrust. He hooked her leg into his arm, letting himself drive all the way in. “Shit,” he hissed through static.

“Traveler, yes,” she smiled wide.

“I am not going to last,” he admitted, overcome by the tight wet heat enveloping him.

“We’re immortal,” she reminded him with a giggle. “We can do this _every_ night. For the rest of our lives.”

“What I did to deserve you…” Saint muttered. “Hold tight.” Letting her brace herself, he thrust into her, rocking her body up the bed as he gave her his all.

“Fuck, Saint!” Aila cried out, her back arching as he filled her completely. “More!”

“Da?”

“Mmmm, harder. Fuck!

Saint slammed into her over and over again, a purple haze filling the room as their Light combined yet again. A ward settled around them as he drove her toward the edge. “So tight,” he ground out. “So good.”

“Please,” she moaned, attempting to meet his frantic thrusts. “Gods, yes!”

Saint was determined to feel her shatter around him, forcing himself to last as long as he could. “Cum for me, Aila.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” her nails scratched across his shoulders. Light ripped through her body, white-hot in culmination of all her classes. A scream was pulled from her throat as she tightened around him, her Light blinding as she transcended. 

Saint shot into her, her slicked walls milking him as she came. His ward shattered from the inside out, shadows ceasing to exist as Light in its purest form flooded the room. “Aila,” he grunted, thrusting into her. 

As they came down from their high, their Light simmered to a hum, the subtle glow of the Traveler’s gift haloing them both.

Bracing himself above her, he bent, running kisses along her damp temple. “Ya mogu lyubit’ tebya,” he said over top of his internal coolers.

Aila pulled his heavy frame down onto her, smiling wide as she caught her breath. “Ya tozhe,” she replied in perfect Russian.


End file.
